


Once Upon a Wintersend

by Ellen_Fitzwilliam_Brandybuck



Series: To Be or Not to Be, That is Their Question [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Interspecies Romance, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellen_Fitzwilliam_Brandybuck/pseuds/Ellen_Fitzwilliam_Brandybuck
Summary: At the arrival of the Rutherford clan for Wintersend celebrations and the drama and misunderstandings that come with them, Ataashi and Cullen are forced to define their relationship. Friends? Yes, of course. Comrades at arms? Undoubtedly. But...was there something more? In the way his eyes traced her movements in a room, the way her lips softened into a smile when he was near, or how they orbited each other as celestial bodies? Could there be something else, beyond comrades, beyond friendship, something akin to...dare she think it...love between them? Part five in self-challenge oneshot Adaar/Rutherford.
Relationships: Blackwall/Josephine Montilyet, Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras, Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Leliana, Dagna/Sera (Dragon Age), Female Adaar/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: To Be or Not to Be, That is Their Question [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101113
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: To Be or Not To Be That is Their Question





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This is part five of my self-challenge Adaar/Rutherford one-shot series, though this one will take a slightly different format because, well, you'll see. It isn't required reading, the other stories, but reading them would help establish the characterization of both the Inquisitor Adaar and some liberties I've taken with canon characters' backstory. I'm dancing to my own drum regarding the characterization of mentioned canon characters, namely Cullen's family, so be forewarned. Thank you for your support, and I hope this leaves you with a smile. Cheers!

WHACK.

"Yeah!"

BANG.

"Again!"

CLANG.

"Yes! Again!"

Ataashi flipped the stick in the air, caught it with one hand while she pivoted on her toe, slamming first the heel of her other foot into his head before following through with a downward slash of the stick, catching his shoulder and part of his face with the weapon. The stick splintered from the force of her attack, and for a moment, the training yard was filled only with the heavy, guttural breaths of her opponent. But then he threw back his head and let out a roar. It would sound like a battle cry to newcomers or the uninitiated, but Ataashi knew better. Iron Bull had come close to orgasm without taking off a shred of clothing, and assuredly without this being meant as a sexual encounter.

Ever since she'd come back from the Fade, Bull had been acting off, and friction had built between him and Dorian. Ataashi had come across Cassandra beating the hell out of Bull, and instead of "rescuing" him, Ataashi had taken over and continued the onslaught. She knew enough of Qun ways, and Bull himself, to understand what he was trying to do. This was the perfect opportunity to get the tension out so he could work through things with Dorian with a clearer mind.

"Fuck yeah, Adaar." Bull shuddered in the after throes of his pleasure. "I needed that."

Ataashi looked at the ruined stick and shrugged, "You're going to need a better stick for next time."

"Oh, I've got a better stick." Bull grabbed at his crotch and laughed when Ataashi rolled her eyes.

"Truly though," Ataashi dropped the stick and wiped her hands against her trousers, "where did he go?"

Bull shrugged, "He took off with Sera, Varric, and Cole this morning. I've a hunch they're making a run on the merchants to prepare for Wintersend."

"Oh," Ataashi grimaced.

She'd completely forgotten about the holiday. In fact, there were many things she'd overlooked since her time in the Fade. Her previous rituals and routines with her friends and advisors at Skyhold had been thrown off-kilter. Though with Solas' help, her nights continued to balance out after living through the Nightmare; however, Hawke's voice still sounded in Ataashi's ears. The rogue archer had been resolute when turning from Ataashi and Stroud, facing against the monster without a shred of regret. Ataashi wished she'd had the time to know the woman before the Fade. She'd truly been a force and not one quickly forgotten.

Ataashi was thankful that Varric didn't blame her for Hawke's...disappearance. Having gone through the Fade and seeing firsthand how things didn't function as they might in this world, she'd reserved judgment on Hawke's death. Until Ataashi saw the body, she would go on assuming that Hawke was as fierce as they'd hoped and had persevered against the monster. Though surviving that Nightmare only to live the rest of her days in the Fade, Ataashi didn't know if that was a better or worse fate than a more permanent end.

"What's with the face, Adaar?" Bull spoke over his shoulder as he set about cleaning up the training yard from his therapy session. "Are you afraid you're not going to have any worthy opponents in the tourney?" He smirked, "Or are you more afraid of our lady ambassador pushing you into a dress to perform in that drama she's got arranged for the feast?"

Ataashi shook her head, "If me dressing up as a cow with a bow upon my head was what Josephine wanted most for Wintersend, I'd do it." At Bull's incredulous look, Ataashi sighed, "I haven't gotten a gift for anyone, Bull." His eyes widened. Based on his expression, apparently, the former Qunari had done one better than her and already accomplished his gift acquisition. "I've been so out of sorts, it hadn't occurred to me until just now what all these preparations and decorations were for." Ataashi waved a hand at the various members of the Inquisition scurrying around setting up festive decorations required for a celebration of the magnitude three of the members of the Inquisition most likely demanded: Vivienne, Leliana, and Josephine.

"Lucky for you, the gift exchange isn't until AFTER the tourney. So if you lower your guard just right, I can land a good knock to your head, and then no one would expect much of anything from you but babbles."

Ataashi rolled her eyes, "Thanks, Bull, you're a true friend."

"Anytime, boss." He started towards the tavern but stopped when Ataashi called out to him.

"I've never taken part in a Wintersend before," Ataashi whispered the confession, "how do you know what sort of gift to give someone? And do I gift to EVERYONE, or just to certain people?"

Bull cackled, "I suggest you take those questions to someone more qualified to answer, Adaar. I've got one thing and one thing only, and that's for my firecracker." At his eyebrow waggling, Ataashi guessed at his innuendo and sighed. "This is a Thedosian holiday, not Qunari. So find a Thedosian to question. Besides, I don't think you'd like my gift suggestions." A sound from the gate had them both pausing to watch as a pair of carriages rolled into the courtyard. A scout sprinted up the stairs two at a time to Cullen's tower once the carriages came to a halt and the escort riders dismounted. Cullen burst out of his tower alongside the scout seconds later and hurried down the stairs. At her side, Bull continued, as they both watched Cullen draw up alongside the first carriage. "Nor do I think you'd appreciate which recipient I suggest you give the said gift to."

Ataashi looked away from the intriguing scene to find Bull waggling his eyebrows again. She was spared further innuendos and teasing by his final retreat into the tavern. Curious at the commotion in the courtyard, Ataashi drifted closer. She'd been the most brusque with Cullen after the Fade. She knew this and was ashamed. They'd grown so close, getting dangerously close to having a serious conversation about whatever it was building between them, had even shared warm affection, and yet since her return, she'd hidden from all elements of warmth and friendship except for necessary outings. Even her meals, Ataashi took most of them in her room, where she attempted to make sense of her world through reading tomes on healing and playing music. Cullen had not attempted to break through the new barrier, but Ataashi knew that he was not unaffected by it.

Ataashi marked their unexpected imprisonment in the sinkhole as the beginning of the change between them. In that time of forced isolation from the rest of their forces, they'd grown in knowledge of mutually held ideals and goals for life. That near kiss shared in the dark still haunted Ataashi's waking mind when she let loose her imagination from its constraints. From that moment forward, they'd been aware of one another as more than colleagues. Friends. Ataashi nodded. That was an accurate term. And then the near-dance at Halamshiral together with the first embrace traded between them, one initiated at her request, and they'd traveled beyond mere friendship into another realm entirely. Only to have Ataashi pull away, out of what emotion she still couldn't quite name, and now they were in yet another strange place of unresolved tension.

"How big you've grown!" Ataashi peered around the carriage she half-hid behind. Cullen was kneeling in front of two children, one boy, and one girl. The girl was taller than the boy, perhaps as tall if not taller than Varric or Lace, while the boy was still quite small. "What have you been feeding Nolan, Mia? He's nearly as tall as Vera now!"

"Really?" The red-headed boy turned to his sister and stood on his toes, exaggerating his efforts to assume the same height as she. "See, Vera? Uncle Cullen says I'm big as you!"

The honey-haired girl sighed and shook her head, "He said you're nearly as tall as me, Nolan. Not that we are the same. Pay attention to the details."

Before the siblings could fall into what seemed to be a habit of disagreement, a beautiful blonde woman, obviously the mother of the children and sibling to Cullen, stepped forward and laid her hands on both children's shoulders. "Do try to avoid opportunities for comparison," she was addressing herself to Cullen, "They're at an age similar to when you and Branson couldn't help but compete at EVERYTHING. I thought my days of mediating were at an end." She gently shook her offspring, a smile playing on her lips. "But it appears they've only just begun, again."

"That's how they keep us young, Mia." A strawberry-haired woman, more lithe and ethereal looking than the mother, came into view. "Or is that how we age? Or is it I can't remember now because I've grown too old?" She made a similarly exaggerated set of gestures as the young boy as she clutched at her head, her theatrics apparently something shared in the family. "The horror, the horror!" The children laughed as their aunt pretended to die right in front of them.

Cullen shook his head, the sound of his laughter warming Ataashi's heart, "Enough, Rosalie. After such a long journey, we must get you all settled." He scanned the courtyard. "I'm sure we can-" He stopped when he made eye contact with Ataashi. She froze.

Ataashi wasn't certain how long they stood as insects stuck in amber, but she startled back to herself when a solidly built man broke the eye contact by leaning into view. Based on his hair's fiery nature, Ataashi assumed he was the spouse of the elder sister and father of the children.

"Hello," his accent was Free Marches, and though most of her experience with Free Marcher men was less than splendid, he so far appeared to have little fear at the sight of a nearly seven-foot-tall horned woman.

Cullen stepped back, sweeping a hand towards Ataashi. "Please forgive my manners. Inquisitor Adaar," Ataashi stepped closer, though she still maintained a polite distance between herself and Cullen, "this is my family. My sister's husband, Lord Rigby Rensburg." Despite the title, this man obviously knew how to work hard and had the musculature to prove it. He bowed his head to Ataashi and maintained a pleasant smile. "My eldest sister, Mia." The blonde woman drew herself up to her full height and the perusing gaze Ataashi felt from her was not unlike a mother hen eyeing up an approaching stranger. Friend or Foe, the gaze questioned. Mia was not wholly unpleasant, however, and also offered a head nod and a neutral smile. "Vera is her eldest," Cullen suddenly turned more toward Ataashi and his gaze warmed for but a moment as he added, "the one I mentioned Branson and I trying to teach to play chess?"

At the mentioning of a shared story between them, Ataashi felt herself blush as all adult heads swiveled to stare at Cullen in a shared look of, _Oh really?_ Cullen wasn't immediately aware of the intense stare until the other, yet-to-be-introduced, sibling cleared her throat, then widened her eyes when Cullen looked to her and not so subtly gestured between them.

"Oh," Cullen squared his shoulders and continued, "Nolan is her youngest. And I haven't seen him since he was small enough to fit in my arms." The last was spoken with a hint of regret, a sound Ataashi wasn't certain if the others noted as Cullen quickly moved on with the introductions. "This is Rosalie, my younger sister. And-"

Rosalie strode forward and clasped Ataashi's hands between her own, "And before he says it, I am unmarried, and the family fears for my future." She continued to stare up at Ataashi with wide eyes. "Maker, but you are tall."

"Rosalie!" Mia hissed. Ataashi looked from the younger sister to the elder, and from the way the mother strengthened her grip on her children's shoulders, it was a safe assumption that the mother had had a previous conversation with her children about what NOT to say, and then they'd just watched their aunt do that very thing.

"It is true," Ataashi smiled as she tried to fight the urge to pull her hands out from Rosalie's grip. Though she had been introduced into the realm of physical affection by her friends and had actively pined for affection from Cullen in particular, she was still unsure if she liked such touches from near-strangers. At the shared warmth she'd seen exchanged between these people, Ataashi was resolved to accept it, however disquieting, since this was Cullen's family. And his happiness was important to her. "However, compared to our colleague Iron Bull, I am not quite such a shock to behold."

Rigby mouthed _Iron Bull_ as he looked at Mia. She gave a noncommittal shrug. The children fidgeted, obviously more curious about exploring the area than standing around talking about it.

"I am so happy to meet you," Rosalie squeezed Ataashi's hands once more before letting go. "We've heard so much about the Inquisitor; it is a relief to finally meet you and realize you are living flesh and not just ideology thrown around as a unifying force."

Ataashi nodded, "While there is much ideology worth unifying around, yes, I am flesh. Quite imperfect and very reliant on the wisdom and guidance of my advisors, such as your brother." She gestured towards Cullen and felt satisfaction creep its way in by way of a smile as she watched him shift on his feet and fight off a blush. "Are you here for the Wintersend celebrations?" She took pity on him and asked, drawing the attention away once more.

"I suppose we are," Mia crossed her arms over her chest as she looked crossly at Cullen, "though we would've been happy to come earlier had we received word."

Cullen opened his mouth and looked to protest but Rigby took hold of his wife's elbow and gestured towards the main keep, "So where will you be settling us, Cullen? Anywhere will be fine by us. Even the stables, for these two at least." He earned playful pushes from his children when he indicated them.

"Yes," Cullen moved towards the stairs, "please, follow me." He hesitated when he came close to Ataashi. Based on his look, Ataashi knew he had more he wanted to discuss with her, but perhaps not in front of his family. "Will we see you for the evening meal, Inquisitor?"

Caught in it now, Ataashi nodded, earning a grin from Rosalie, curious smiles from both Nolan and Vera, and a calculating look from Mia.

Once alone again in the courtyard, Ataashi let out the breath she'd been holding. This was an interesting turn of events. Sometime before, Ataashi had challenged Cullen to send an invitation to his family after the Winter Palace, citing their visit as the only way she'd accept his offer for a dance. Apparently, Cullen's family had received his raven and their appearance was their answer, and Cullen's reminder of her challenge. Turning on her heel, Ataashi continued on towards the stables. Bull said to ask a Thedosian, and a Thedosian she would question. On more matters now, than mere gifts.


	2. Well...shit

"Make sure you tuck," Cassandra tightened the last strap necessary to hold the armor to Ataashi's torso, "I know you think I'm in jest, but I mean it." She circled Ataashi once more, tugging and pushing at various parts of the armor until she stood before the rogue with a satisfied smirk on her face. "Everyone forgets to tuck down at the last moment. Too intent on watching the lancehead to remember that it's with your head that you fight, not just your weapon."

Ataashi smiled as she picked up the ornately decorated helm, "Thank you, Cassandra. I appreciate the advice. This is my first tourney, so I won't scoff at anything you tell me."

"If only Varric had the wisdom to be so humble when he knows nothing," Cassandra sighed as she retrieved Ataashi's chosen shield, "Maker preserve me, but that dwarf tries my patience sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Ataashi laughed at the Seeker's glare as together they continued to ready Ataashi for the coming tourney competition.

Though neither one of them admitted to it, though everyone else at Skyhold was aware of it, both Cassandra and Varric had an attraction for one another. Before the events in the Fade, they spent more time together even when not forced to. Of course, there were always arguments echoing off the keep's stone walls whenever they were together, but the words traded were of a more affectionate nature than before. Then, after they both survived the Fade, the arguments had grown less, but the time spent together had increased. With this increased time together had also increased the warmth between them, the verbal barbs now coming from a place of mutual respect and admiration.

Theirs was indeed a unique relationship, and one that Ataashi felt much empathy for just as mismatched as the dwarf and Seeker seemed to be, despite themselves, they continued to come together, and now something akin to affection was developing between them. She saw a reflection of sorts of her own dance with Cullen: the tentative curiosity laced with hope, with the ever-present fear of yet another rejection. Ataashi never broached the budding…romance?...with Varric to Cassandra, or to Varric, but she had been pulled into idle gossip by Josephine and Dorian on more than one occasion. Both the Antivan and Tevinter felt it necessary to create further opportunities for them to mingle and work things out, and often tried to use Ataashi's role for their efforts but Ataashi did her best to remain neutral, observant, and hopeful.

"What did you get him for Wintersend?" Ataashi asked, curious when Cassandra nearly dropped the dagger she'd picked up from the bench.

"Who?" Her eyes were wide with fear when she faced Ataashi.

Ataashi pulled the dagger from Cassandra's fingers before the woman did any harm to herself, "Varric." At Cassandra's continued look of anxiety, Ataashi softened the point of her inquiry, "or the others? I'm still trying to sort out the gifts I should arrange, and I was hoping for inspiration from you."

"Oh," Cassandra forced a smile to her lips, "I find weapons and armor are always welcome gifts. Or traveling bags." Her eyes darted around the abandoned room before she leaned closer, "Of course, books can be good gifts as well."

Ataashi smiled. She already knew that Varric had finished not one, but two new installments of _Swords and Shields_ for Wintersend. Ataashi wouldn't tell Cassandra this, of course, but it had been most amusing watching Varric hide his intention of delighting the Seeker behind his grumblings and complaints at the smut and nonsense the series was composed of, while all the while Ataashi saw the light of joy in the dwarf's eyes at the concept of gifting something she adored so shamelessly.

"Thank you," Ataashi adjusted her grip on the helm, "I appreciate the insight as I-"

Both women turned when the door to the room suddenly clanged open, and through it fell both Nolan and Vera. It had been nearly three days since their arrival, and in that time, Ataashi had joined every meal with the rest of her friends and advisors. She'd traded Free Marches stories with Rigby and sat in respect as the man explained his plans for irrigation and dam building to improve crops in South Reach. She'd played chess with both Mia and Cullen, not playing at politeness when she lost to both of them. And she'd done her best to avoid the pointed questions veering too close to finding out the truth shot at her by Rosalie when the younger woman sought her out.

"What are you two doing here?" Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the children. "You're supposed to be in the stands with the rest of your family."

"I wanted to compete." Nolan strode forward confidently, his hands already reaching for a shield lying against the bench.

Vera grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back while Cassandra moved to intercept, "And I'm here trying to get him to come back with me."

Cassandra and Vera looked to Ataashi for help when Nolan widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest, making it obvious he wasn't about to go willingly or quietly.

"Why don't we help you back to the stands?" She crouched down in front of Nolan. The boy still had to tip his head up to meet her eyes. "And after the tourney, if I'm not bested and sent to the surgeon for stitches, I'll arrange a nice pony to meet us in the field."

"A pony?" Nolan frowned, sniffing out a trick to go back to his parents. "What for?"

Ataashi saw movement over the children's shoulder but didn't look up to see who it was standing there. She hoped one of his parents.

"Why for tourney training, of course, Master Nolan. I suggest a pony because we need to balance your height and weight with that of your steed." She stood back to her full height. "That is why I must use only harts or the very largest of horses. If I am too large for my steed, then my ability to compete is hindered. Based on your current height and weight," Ataashi remembered Rosalie's theatrics and did similarly as she measured Nolan and made a show of calculating numbers, "I believe a small Ranger would suit you well. I know of just the one. Thorin is his name, and he's a beautiful grey gelding in our stables."

Nolan clenched his fists before uncrossing his arms, "You mean it?"

"I mean it," Ataashi crouched again, "I am a woman of my word. And so long as your parents have no objection to the notion, I would be happy to work with you on tourney tactics. Then maybe in a later event, we could find something for you to compete in; how does that sound?"

"I think it sounds like he's got quite the ally here." The figure at the doorway came further into the room, and Ataashi startled. The similarities between this man and Cullen were striking. He was more svelte than Cullen though of the same height, his eyes a more honeyed color, and he bore no scars upon his face. His hair was shaggier than Cullen's as well, of a slightly redder tint, and he sported a well-groomed goatee upon his face. "And it sounds as if I arrived just in time to witness my mighty nephew Nolan learn how to fight from the Inquisitor herself!"

Nolan and Vera turned at the first sound of the man's voice, and by the time he finished his entrance, both children were giggling in his arms as he picked them up and spun around. Cassandra shared a look with Ataashi before redirecting her gaze back to the trio before them. The man set down the children and turned his still smiling face back to the women. Ataashi felt shaken again by the resemblances between him and Cullen, but there was added freedom to this man, an ease of movement, and an additional layer of confident charm that Cullen lacked most of the time.

"Forgive my intrusion," he gave a formal bow, earning giggles from both children, "though excited by my late arrival, I'm afraid my elder sister's frustrations at losing her children sent me in search of her lost offspring without waiting for more formal introductions." He moved closer, and with the same unassuming movements as Rosalie, he took hold of one of Ataashi's hands. As she'd yet to put on the gauntlets, Ataashi felt the warmth and strength of his touch keenly. His lips pulled upwards into a smile as he bowed over her hand, "I am Branson Rutherford," the brush of his lips against her skin was quick but not without effect, "the younger brother of your advisor and the uncle to these minions." He gave a wink before letting go and turning to pounce on his niece and nephew, sending the pair of them into a fit of laughter and squeals.

"I see you found them," Ataashi looked up with wide eyes, tucking her hand behind her back at the sound of Cullen's voice. She wasn't sure if he'd seen the exchange or not, but she couldn't help but feel strangely guilty. He looked between the members of his family and Ataashi, "And I see you've met."

He sounded tired, but not unhappy. Ataashi wondered if the late nights he'd spent ever since his family's arrival were catching up to him. She knew he spent most of his working hours with them, wanting to make the most of their time together, and left his regular duties with the Inquisition for the night hours. Ataashi knew of his late nights, namely because she couldn't sleep either. It was no longer because of the events of the Fade keeping her awake. Solas had helped her sort that out. Now it seemed her thoughts would not keep still when thinking about Cullen, his family, and the Wintersend celebrations. Today marked the first day of the tourney and following four days of events, they were to have two feast days with a drama arranged by Josephine, and on the last day of Wintersend, they would exchange gifts. She still hadn't completely figured out her gift list, and neither had she figured out what to do about her feelings towards Cullen. 

"Yes," Branson stood and took hold of Nolan and Vera's hands, "the Inquisitor just promised Nolan a training session after today's events."

Cullen turned surprised eyes to Ataashi, and she held up her hands, "Only with permission from his parents, of course."

"I'm sure they can be conveniently distracted," Branson spoke over his shoulder, adding a wink. Ataashi felt herself blush and heard Cullen clear his throat.

"Come," he stepped away from the door and gestured for Branson and the others to precede him, "we should return to the stands. The competition will start soon."

"Thank you!" Nolan called over his shoulder after Vera whispered something into his ear. Ataashi nodded to the boy.

"Looking forward to seeing you smash your opponents to bits on the field." Branson paused at the doorway. "With a physique like yours," he shot her another wink, "none of them stand a chance."

Cullen looked as at a loss for words as Ataashi felt, and Cassandra was strangely silent at her side as well.

"Please forgive his impertinence," Cullen finally spoke after a breath, "none of us are quite certain where he's been, but it's obvious wherever it's been, he hasn't improved in manners."

"You mean he's always been so…" Cassandra frowned as she searched for the right word. "Free?"

Cullen nodded as he drew a hand across the back of his neck, "Branson and Rosalie both take after my mother's roguish side of the family. Born under the star of mischief, my father used to say."

"I find them both charming," Ataashi smiled at Cullen's surprise, "and I like to associate with rogues of a sort."

Her attempt at humor seemed to have missed its mark if the somewhat fallen look on Cullen's face was evidence of the fact.

"I'll let you return to the competition."

Cassandra was the first to speak after his hasty retreat, "I think you made him jealous."

"What?" It was Ataashi's turn to whirl on Cassandra with eyes wide and near fearful. "Who?"

"The Commander, of course." At Ataashi's continued stubborn silence, Cassandra sighed. "There's no need to play coy with me, Ataashi. Though things have not been the same since the Fade, I know that a special bond has been developing between you and Commander Cullen. I do not speak of it to anyone else, for it is not their business, but I have it on good authority that I am not the only one to have noted this bond."

Oh, how the tables had turned. Ataashi pinched the bridge of her nose. She could hide behind a mirrored accusation that would send Cassandra in the corner of defense when Ataashi demanded the potential difference between her and Cullen and Cassandra and Varric. But what would that accomplish? Aside from Vivienne, Ataashi had never spoken of her affinity to Cullen with anyone, and here was Cassandra, not always the most observant of individuals with such matters, openly commenting on the topic. Lowering her hand to her side, Ataashi sighed. She would not hide.

"How did I make Cullen jealous?"

"By complimenting his brother."

Ataashi frowned, "But the compliment was leveled at both siblings. I've only just met Branson; there is no basis for jealousy."

"You noticed, as did I, the similarities in appearance between Branson and Cullen. No?" Ataashi nodded. "And yet we both noticed, or at least I observed, how easily conversation came to Branson, how calm and charming he appeared as he spoke. That is quite unlike Cullen. After so many years with the Templars, then those horrible events as the Circle, and more recently fighting through the lyrium withdrawals," Cassandra sighed, "I fear very little will come easily for him in the years to come. He will not readily act or walk with the same poised gravitas as his younger brother."

Ataashi scratched at the base of her horn, "You think that Cullen is jealous of my growing fond of his brother?" Cassandra nodded. "That he finds himself lacking in comparison?" Cassandra nodded again. "Well…shit."

"Yes," Cassandra picked up the shield and handed it to Ataashi, "not quite the way I would summarize the situation, but yes, an accurate description nonetheless. Now, go out there and win the competition. It would not do for the Inquisitor to be bested at the tourney."

Not feeling the slightest pressure from her friend's jab, the same as she didn't feel guilt and frustration at potentially causing more angst between herself and Cullen, Ataashi hoisted her shield. All jests aside, Ataashi hoped she was more successful on the field of battle than she seemed to be in the field of affection.


	3. Of Injuries and Chess Moves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving some non-canon backstory for the Skyhold surgeon. May experiment with her more in a later story. Also, I'm having a grand time with Branson. No apologies for his audacity, as he'd have none either. Cheers!

Serilda left Ataashi in blessed peace for the first time since she'd arrived. With strict instructions to lay still while the stitches set and the wound stopped seeping, Ataashi had opportunity to ruminate over recent events. The draught of pain-relieving liquid Dorian concocted for her still sat on the table by her bed. She would not take it, at least not yet. Ataashi appreciated the pain at this moment as it kept her grounded.

Although she'd gotten through the first day of the Wintersend tourney with nay a scratch, this second day saw her with a narrow gash running down her ribcage and shifting diagonally over her stomach. It seemed Skyhold's surgeon knew Ataashi well enough to realize she most likely wouldn't remain bedridden or on the sidelines for long. Being from the Anderfels and of a fiercely strong race herself, Serilda didn't seem the type to argue against Ataashi if she chose to reenter the competition in some fashion or another. With thirty stitches holding the wound closed, Serilda demanded that Ataashi either not take part in the next two days of tourney or at least wait until the last day before she did anything particularly active.

Ataashi shifted on the bed, hoisting herself up higher against the headboard, and winced as the motion pulled at a few of the stitches. Stilling herself and breathing through the pain, Ataashi smirked. She would comply with Serilda for the time being and remain in bed. Her advisors and friends knew where to find her if something for the Inquisition needed her attention or if some formal ceremony for the Wintersend festival needed further approval.

She could've allowed one of the mage healers to mend the tear. Both Solas and Dorian had offered, but there was something about this wound that kept Ataashi from accepting. If they healed it, most likely, there would be no scar, and Ataashi wanted this scar. Wanted the visual reminder. She knew few aside from Iron Bull and perhaps their strange arcanist Dagna would understand the desire, and so kept her reasons to herself as she limped off the field and reported to the surgeon.

The door to the healing hall opened. Ataashi expected more competitors would continue pouring in, as there were still a few hours left for today's events. However, she pursed her lips together in thought when Cullen's sister Mia stepped inside. After speaking with Serilda, Mia took a direct path to Ataashi's bed. She wore the same purposeful expression as always, with her lips barely tugged into a neutral smile, her eyes narrowed in thought, and her jaw clenched. Ataashi was more curious than concerned at the woman's appearance by her bedside. After all, it had been Ataashi injured in the competition and not-

"The surgeon says you will mend," Mia spoke without greeting once she was on the stool she'd drug closer to Ataashi's bed.

Ataashi nodded, "My armor took most of the beating. I've had worse than this," both in her time with Shokrakar and after with the Inquisition, but she didn't mention it and instead added, "and I trust Serilda's skilled hand to leave only the smallest of scars."

"You let him hit you." Mia crossed her arms over her chest. "Why?"

"What do you mean?" Ataashi refused to cower or shift uncomfortably in front of the woman's calculating gaze.

"Though I am no swordswoman myself, I know enough about fighting to recognize a few things. One, there was no reason for you to let down your guard when you did, and two, you are the more skilled fighter than he." Ataashi made ready to protest, but Mia shook her head, "Though he had exemplary training in his youth, he does not possess the same raw power that you do. The discipline of his training was his undoing on the field and should've been your advantage." Mia leaned forward and studied the ridges and lines of Ataashi's face, "So I ask again, why did you let Branson strike you?"

Ataashi breathed slowly. Mia took Ataashi's continued silence as an opening to offer a few of her own conjectures.

"Were you trying to assuage his pride?" Ataashi knew without having to ask to whom Mia was referring, and it wasn't Branson. "Do you know my brother so little? Doing something like that would only insult him." Mia sighed, and it was a curious thing to see the woman had a similar habit of pinching the bridge of her nose as Ataashi. When she redirected her gaze back to Ataashi, her eyes were marginally softer, "I know you care for him, and that he cares for you."

"What?" Ataashi surprised them both with her interjected question. She then made a fuss about repositioning herself on the bed to avoid looking at Mia.

"While he may not be the most effusive of writers or conversationalists," Mia's lips turned upward into a genuine smile, "I know my brother. It isn't always what he says, as it is often the things that he purposefully leaves out. What he has written about the Inquisition and the Inquisitor, coupled with how I've observed him these past few days, both in and out of your presence, I've connected the dots. There is a bond between you." She spoke softly and without accusation, leaving Ataashi to wonder if Mia was in favor of said proposed bond or not. "I think it to be a strong but undefined one."

Ataashi had the opportunity to deny, to hide, to cower, and Mia was giving it to her. But Ataashi had the feeling that this conversation itself was a measurement. A tool used to see if Ataashi was someone worthy in Mia's opinion of Cullen's affections. If she responded "wrongly," then Mia would consider it her sisterly duty to block all potential efforts to solidify and deepen the bond. If Ataashi answered "correctly," then she might have an ally in Mia. Ataashi frowned. She'd never been in this kind of position before and didn't know how best to move forward, except with the truth. The truth was typically an excellent place to start.

"It was not his pride I was trying to assuage." Ataashi began slowly, speaking as if she had to taste each word to see if it was the right one to use. "I don't think I can explain exactly the reason I let him strike me, as yes, it is true, I let down my guard, and I allowed the hit. Perhaps it is connected to my ancestry," she pointed to her horns as if Mia could've ever forgotten their existence, "or maybe it is something unique to myself. I don't even know. All I can say is that when we were competing, the events of last night came back to me, and when I looked across the field and saw Cullen watching, I lowered my guard and allowed the hit."

Mia frowned, "The events of last night?"

"Cullen didn't tell you?" Ataashi was surprised. "Branson either?"

Mia shook her head, and Ataashi sighed. No wonder the woman had come in with such purpose and had been so pointed in her questions and statements. It seemed only three people knew of the misunderstanding.

"Well," Ataashi scratched at the base of her horn, "please understand I hold no ill will towards either of your brothers. And I will admit there is truth to your earlier observation. I do feel strongly for Cullen."

"But?" Mia shifted on the stool as if settling in for a long tale. "I sense a 'but' to that statement. Go on, do tell. Rigby is with the children, and the competitions won't end for another two hours. We have time."

Ataashi took a deep breath and slowly let it out. This would not be the most enjoyable story told.

_The night before…_

"There you are," Ataashi startled when Branson made his presence known, coming to stand very close to her on the battlements, "after so many victories on the field, I thought you deserved far more accolades than you received below." He thrust a flagon into her hand. "So, let me offer you a toast." He raised his drink into the air while Ataashi stared on in confusion. "To Ataashi Adaar, the brave Inquisitor, and the mightiest, and most delectable competitor of our Wintersend tourney." Ataashi blushed and couldn't drink even as she watched Branson down the contents of his flagon. When he noticed her lack of movement, he chuckled, "What is it? Do I come on too strong?"

Ataashi gave a half shrug, "I'm not sure what to make of you, that is true." She sipped at the ale. She'd already had quite a few and had come to the battlements to clear her head of the fuzzy effects too much drink and too much warmth the crowded tavern rendered. "And I do not have many commenting on my physique or appeal as you have in the one day that you've been here."

"Their loss," Branson nudged her shoulder with his own as he stepped close only to shift past her and lean against the stone wall. It was a cold evening, and the wind had a decided bite to it, but it seemed Branson didn't feel its effect any more than Ataashi did. Perhaps they'd both had too much to really care. "And why is that, anyway?"

Ataashi resumed her position against the stone, not bothering to readjust her position when Branson once more moved to stand next to her, shoulder pressed to shoulder, hip pressed to hip. "Why is what?"

"Why has no one taken you to bed?" Ataashi dropped the flagon in surprise, and they watched as it fell past the stone bridge below them and on into the icy darkness.

Turning towards him, Ataashi leaned back to keep his face from colliding with her breasts, "I beg your pardon?" Surely he was in jest.

"You heard me," Branson set his ale aside and reached out to place a hand on her hip. "You are a strong, beautiful woman, Ataashi. I've only been here a day, and I am already entranced." Ataashi was far too confused to notice in time that Branson had moved his other hand to trace his fingers across the skin of her collarbone and towards her ear. She shuddered and closed her eyes. Though the touches were warm and what she'd desired for a long time, the person was all wrong. "Only a fool would resist you, Ataashi." With her eyes closed, Ataashi could almost imagine it was Cullen touching her, talking to her. Their voices were so alike.

"Branson, I don't think," Ataashi placed her hands on top of his and opened her eyes, ready to pull away, "I don't think this is what we should be doing right now."

Branson smirked, "Agreed." Instead of letting go, he moved closer, shifting them, so she was trapped between the cold stone wall and the warmth of his body. "There are other things we could do right now."

Ataashi opened her mouth to try another polite dissuading but was cut off by his kiss. Her eyes wide and her hands extended in surprise, Ataashi's ale-muddled brain finally caught up with her body and the situation. Branson Rutherford was kissing her on the battlements, and though her body was appreciating the attention it had long craved, everything was wrong. Ataashi put her hands on Branson's shoulders to push him away just as the door to the tower leading into the tavern opened. In the doorway stood a familiar armor-clad figure, his shadow long and falling over the pair of them like the judgment she knew he would hold in his heart at seeing them together like this.

Branson ended the kiss at the sound of the door and turned to face it. At seeing his brother, Branson smiled, his hands still holding onto Ataashi.

"Ah, I see one of the fools I spoke of has arrived." Branson flexed his fingers against Ataashi's hip and shifted their positions to face Cullen. "Good evening, brother. Fine night for a walk on the battlements, don't you think?"

Ataashi looked between the brothers. It was hard to discern Cullen's expression; the light shining behind him cast deep shadows on his face. She could feel his anger, though, in the stillness that emanated from his body. Ataashi jerked her hip to the side to dislodge Branson and stepped out of his touch. Branson glanced over at her and offered a wink. The man was mad. Surely.

"Josephine and Leliana are looking for you, Inquisitor." His voice was as icy as the wind, and Ataashi felt her heart tighten at the sound of it. _Fuck_.

Branson laughed, "Is that all you have to say, brother?" Ataashi shifted on her feet, making ready to move past him back towards the tavern. But Branson had other ideas. He grabbed her wrist and forcefully tugged. While normally, Ataashi would've been unmoved by this, the amount of ale she'd drunk really had been ridiculous, and she found herself far keener on instability than normal. As a result, she fell back into Branson's arms with barely any fight and felt for the second time his lips pressing against her own.

"That is enough." Cullen broke the kiss both with his demand and with his hands as he roughly pulled Branson away from Ataashi and pushed him against the wall while he pushed Ataashi towards the tavern. He turned his gaze first to Ataashi, and in his eyes, now framed by the light behind her, she saw the pain this assumed betrayal had wrought inside him. Her own heart ached at the sight. She opened her mouth to explain, to justify, but he shifted his attention back to his brother, and she was cut off. "You will return to your quarters and sleep off this night's revelry." Ataashi wasn't certain if Cullen was speaking just to Branson or to her as well.

Branson shrugged, "Oh, if only it was merely the ale that got to me." He studied his hands, then turned a knowing smirk towards both Ataashi and Cullen. "Unlike you, brother, I don't hide behind convenient excuses when I feel something for someone. I act on it." He stood up straight then and touched his lips, throwing Ataashi another leering look. "And it seems I wasn't alone in the act tonight."

The hit should've been expected, yet the sound of fist hitting skin still took Ataashi by surprise. Branson lolled his tongue around in his mouth before spitting out a bit of blood onto the stone at his feet. Rubbing his hand over his cheek, he somehow still had the ability in him to smile at his brother.

"It is good to feel that you still have it in you to act as well, brother," Branson murmured to Cullen before he moved past him, pausing when he was next to Ataashi. He picked up her hand, and though she should've known better, she allowed him to press a bloodied kiss on the skin of her wrist. "Good night, m'lady Inquisitor. May your dreams be filled with passion fulfilled at long last."

He sauntered the rest of the way into the tower and left Ataashi and Cullen alone in the cold.

_Back to present…_

"What happened then?" Mia had moved from the uncomfortable stool to the empty bed by Ataashi's and sat cross-legged like a child. Her eyes were wide and filled with a myriad of emotions, surprise not being one of them, Ataashi noted.

Ataashi tugged at the hem of her tunic, "Cullen didn't speak to me again before going back into the tower. I didn't see him the rest of the night, Branson either, and I barely slept. I never had the opportunity to explain things to Cullen before the tourney events, and when my name was drawn to compete against Branson, I felt as if the gods, or the Maker, were further punishing me. Branson seemed to enjoy the fight, and more than once, I noticed him making eye contact with Cullen as if trying to further the argument between them, and then when I made eye contact with him, I froze. I couldn't do it anymore. No more fighting. No more misunderstandings." Ataashi shrugged, wincing when the movement reminded her again that she'd kept the wound. "I guess I was hoping the act would let Cullen know there was nothing between Branson and I, never had been, and never would be."

"You know," Mia drew her hand over her face, "most people just explain things. With words."

Ataashi chuckled, "You're right, of course. But if you know your brother as you say you do, then you know sometimes he doesn't allow time for words."

"Yes, you are correct there." Mia frowned and tapped a finger against her lips. "What in the name of the Maker got into Branson to cause him to take such liberties with you?" Ataashi raised her eyebrows, and Mia smiled. "It isn't that I think it too marvelous a thought that he would become completely besotted with you within a day. He's always been the type to throw himself fully and completely into whatever emotion he happens to be feeling. He has that in common with Rosalie. And what he said is true," Mia sat up more properly as fitting her age and station before she added, "you are a formidable woman worthy of respect and not without beauty."

"Th-thank you." Ataashi stammered.

"None of us are quite certain where he's been or what he's been up to, though he's kept in more contact with Rosalie than myself. The last Rosalie told me was that he was in Lothering looking for some man named Hawkwind about a job. And that was some months ago." Mia sighed. "He's been a bit adrift ever since our parents were killed, and even more so since the Templar order was no longer a viable option for him to pursue."

As if speaking of him was enough to summon him, Branson came through the doorway sporting a handful of flowers. Mia looked over her shoulder when she spied the tense set of Ataashi's face, and her frown mirrored Ataashi's misgivings. Seeing the stern looks on both women's faces, Branson held up his hands.

"I come unarmed." Mia glared at the flowers and seeing her frown deepen, Branson laughed. "Well, almost." He moved to the other side of Ataashi's bed and placed the flowers at the foot, not bothering to offer them directly. No doubt he assumed, rightly, that Ataashi would smash the flowers over his head if given a chance. "How bad is it?"

Mia stood with her hands on her hips, "You have no right to ask that. Not after the trouble you caused last night!"

Branson was good enough to blush at the mentioning of last night's activities but whiffled away his sister's ire, "I was only doing it for Cullen's own good."

"Excuse me?" Ataashi sat up straighter, ignoring the pain from her stitches. "What happened to the entranced confessions of a man accusing his brother of foolishness for resisting me?"

"Well, it's good you have it in you to smart at assumed trespasses against your feminine wiles," Branson chuckled, not earning responding smiles or affection from either woman. "May I sit?" Neither agreed, but he did so anyway, staying out of striking range for both as he sat on the edge of the bed adjacent. "What I said last night still rings true, my dearest Ataashi. You are a most magnificent woman, and only fools are blind to the delights you have to offer them." He let his eyes wander the length of her torso, and it was a forced throat clearing from Mia that set him talking again. "With that said, I will add that I am not fool enough to assume any of those delights will ever be offered to me, nor should they be, not when my brother is so hung up on you."

"You knew," Mia's voice began to rise, "and you STILL-"

"Be still, sister," Branson motioned for Mia to sit back down, "and let me finish. Soon you will find I am not the only guilty one in this Orlesian court worthy drama."

"Why are you confessing?" Ataashi narrowed her eyes at him. "And why are you so willing to name accomplices, now?"

"No one was supposed to get hurt," Branson lightly touched his bruised cheek and smiled, "well aside from pride and perhaps a bruised cheek, no one was supposed to get hurt. Your injury changed everything, and my accomplice and I disagreed about whether to confess. But here I am, confessing."

"And your accomplice?" Mia's tone of voice made Ataashi feel the woman was already making assumptions about who the accomplice was.

"Well, I'm sure she'll be by later to confess as well. Right now, I think she's too busy watching a certain chevalier compete in the tourney."

"Rosalie."

"Michel."

Mia and Ataashi spoke as one, and Branson nodded to both, clearly amused.

"Go on," Mia sat back down, "confess before I thrash you."

"Oh no, not the thrashing, anything but that!" Branson ducked when Mia tossed a pillow in his direction. In looking back to Ataashi, he immediately sobered, "Right, confession. So Rosalie and I exchange letters fairly regularly, as you know." He looked to Mia, who nodded in return. "She told me of the intended visit to Skyhold and pleaded that I join because Rosalie had a feeling she'd need some help."

"Help?" Ataashi interrupted.

Branson shook his head, "No, uh-uh, it is my confession, and I will tolerate no interruptions." Ataashi shook her head and leaned back against the headboard. _Truly mad_. "Together with my dearest sister here," he pointed to Mia, "they formulated a supposition that there was someone within the Inquisition that our brother felt strongly towards." Ataashi blushed and looked at her lap. "Of course, he never said so in his letters, but Rosalie has a strong imagination, and Mia has that motherly, 'I know all things' instinct, and together they created an elaborate love affair for Cullen, and all without having seen and confirmed a bloody thing."

"You better not be lobbing judgment at me, Branson," Mia's voice held the promise of said thrashing, "not after-"

"No," Branson waved his finger at her, "I'm not done confessing. Reserve your thrashing for after, dearest." He waited until Mia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest before he continued. "Moving on, Rosalie used one of your advisor's crows within hours of arriving, begging even more strongly for me to come because she now knew WHO our brother pined for and that he was being a stubborn idiot about it as well."

"Leliana let Rosalie use one of her crows?" Ataashi frowned. "For this?"

Branson shrugged, "Rosalie can be fairly convincing and charming, and I've not a clue what she said or how she did it, but a crow I received and a missive I answered by coming here. It took me less time than she to see the problem and to come up with a plan on how to fix the problem."

"I don't think I like your solution." Ataashi's frown deepened. She felt used and guilty, as if she'd allowed Cullen's siblings to play with him through his affection for her.

"Well, we got results." Branson shrugged again. "Like it or not, Cullen has been forced to face things, and you have as well, and maybe now some forward momentum will be had."

"Reckless." Mia shook her head. "Arrogant." Her glare homed in on her brother, and Ataashi felt satisfaction at seeing him grimace under her gaze. "Bastard."

"You know that's not true; you had the same parents as I."

Mia stood and spoke agitatedly, her voice carrying clearly through the healing halls, "Have you no shame? No remorse? You play with emotions as one might with chess pieces!"

"Ah, but you are correct, dear sister." Branson rolled his shoulders as if to rid himself of any guilt he might feel. "I believe this move is a type zugzwang, only Ataashi and Cullen are the ones at an equal disadvantage here if they refuse to talk things over, and I am not even a player in the game."

"Life is not a chessboard, Branson," Mia growled, looking far more murderous than Ataashi thought possible. "You have no right to play such games."

"Well, as I said before, I am not the only one who should receive your ire or the thrashing. Our darling, sweet sister Rosalie may not have been the one kissing those sweet lips," Branson nodded towards Ataashi, and she gnashed her teeth alongside Mia, "but she was just as much a maestro of the orchestra of events as I. Perhaps if good comes from this, you'll name your firstborn after me."

Serilda chose that moment to reappear, "Visiting hours are over. I'm going to have to ask you both to leave. The other patients need quiet and from the looks of things," the surgeon studied the tense lines of Ataashi's face, "it seems the Inquisitor needs some time to herself to allow those stitches to seal up." Instead of walking away to allow privacy for the conversation to continue, Serilda stood stoically by, arms over her chest, waiting to escort both Mia and Branson from the building.

"I'll come by and check on you later," Serilda grunted at her words and so Mia added, "with the surgeon's permission, of course."

Ataashi nodded, "Thank you." Mia stepped into the aisle and waited for Branson to join her.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, Ataashi," Branson stood and smoothed his doublet, "but mayhap in time we can get past this and be friends. Because you truly are remarkable." He waggled his eyebrows at her, "And sumptuous."

"Say goodbye then," Serilda took hold of Branson's elbow and all but thrust him into Mia's waiting clutches. She ushered them down the aisle and out the door like a clucking mother hen shooing away invaders to the coop.

Ataashi reached over and, without hesitation, drained the pain-relieving concoction in one go, grimacing as the sickeningly sweet liquid coated her throat on its way down. Serilda returned with a cup of water, and Ataashi sipped at it, grateful to wash away the fruity taste. As the surgeon checked Ataashi's dressing, Ataashi spoke.

"Do you celebrate Wintersend in the Anderfels, Serilda?"

The surgeon nodded as she stepped away, satisfied Ataashi hadn't busted a stitch already, "In a fashion. We have trade fairs and competitions between the cities and use the time to show off the unmarried men and women. Usually, there are quite a few marriages arranged by the end of the feasting. Sometimes long engagements aren't needed and there's more feasting with the quick marriages."

"Do you exchange gifts too?" Ataashi felt the first fingers of sleep touch the edge of her mind and began to settle more comfortably against the pillows. Serilda moved to help. Dorian's concoctions were always quick working. 

The woman nodded again, "But only to one person. You choose who it will be, but typically we choose our lovers, or to the unmarried, those who have had the greatest influence on them, or to whom they would wish to be married. Sometimes you give a gift to someone, and they give theirs to another, but there is no shame in that, for the ebbs and flows of affection are expected in life. Even between a husband and wife, some Wintersend, the husband may wish to gift to his son rather than his wife, or the wife may gift her sister. No one feels slighted, regardless of the recipient. There isn't enough life to live to waste time on such petty grievances."

Petty grievances. Ataashi nodded. Yes, not enough life indeed. She knew she would forgive Branson, eventually, even if nothing was mended between herself and Cullen. She was in full agreement with Serilda in that notion. Living life without ruminating over petty grievances was by far the better choice.

"What would you gift to that ONE person?" Ataashi's voice dragged as the concoction worked quickly to relax her body and slow her mind.

Serilda shrugged, "Depends on who I was gifting. I've a mind to gift a certain mage here at Skyhold an ancient book of natural home remedies." At Ataashi's confused look, Serilda laughed, "It is an ongoing debate between us. He's of the mind that everything can and should be solved with magic, and I differ in opinion. Magic is unstable and shouldn't be so quickly turned to, not when we have the knowledge and ability to solve things with our good hands and the gifts the earth has given us." Ataashi yawned, despite her desire to continue the conversation. Serilda smiled, "Rest now, Inquisitor. Maybe you'll dream of the perfect gift for that one person."

Ataashi needed no more encouragement and plunged into the welcome darkness of slumber.


	4. A Small Token for Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will recognize some of the dialogue in this chapter but I've repositioned it, and in some cases switched entirely who said it. Cheers!

She found him alone in his office, brooding over the table. Ataashi hadn't seen him since her injury. Surprisingly, he hadn't come by the healing halls. Or perhaps he had been by but retreated in favor of allowing the others time with her. Ataashi sighed. She knew from Serilda that nearly every one of her friends checked on her, sometimes catching her awake and other times finding her only barely lucid and still semi-dreaming because of the Serilda's draughts. Undoubtedly the surgeon felt the only way to keep Ataashi abed was through sleeping potions. And she'd been right too. Serilda declared her fit to move about and return to her own quarters after this morning's meal, and Ataashi had been glad of the returned freedom. For as soon as her strength returned and the last dregs of the brews wore off, Ataashi had been out of bed and nearly knocking over the Anderfels surgeon in her haste to be outside again.

She'd first been found halfway to her room by Rosalie. The girl had been contrite during her rendition of confession cum apology. But still undecided just how much she resented Cullen's siblings for their part in the misunderstanding, Ataashi had been relieved when Vivienne found her next, shooing the younger woman away with a mere glance. The Knight-Enchanter then had her own version of events to tell, accompanying Ataashi the rest of the way to her quarters, where the woman unsurprisingly picked out the outfit Ataashi was to wear her first day out of the infirmary. As Vivienne did this, she informed Ataashi of all Cullen had done in the time since her injury (namely that Cullen had been seen heading towards the healing halls only to turn around mid-journey and return to his own quarters). Then she laid on Ataashi's shoulders her own opinions of the Rutherford siblings, once Ataashi confessed to their antics. From Vivienne's voice, Ataashi noted bored annoyance mixed with respect for their audacious behavior.

After changing into a fresh green tunic and brown leggings, with Vivienne's help to avoid stretching the stitches, Ataashi had next been found by Dorian and Sera on her way to the great hall. Both were filled with their own assumptions about why Ataashi let Branson strike her—as all Skyhold knew that was the only way the younger fighter could have possibly won—and Ataashi bit her lip to remain silent under their onslaught. She wasn't yet ready to tell them the whole truth. Vivienne was one thing. She would keep silent for as long as she felt it necessary and only leak the bits of truth she felt would benefit Ataashi—not entirely unlike Branson's efforts now that Ataashi thought of it—but Sera and Dorian were less guarded and likely to spill things just to get a rise out of someone.

Somehow distracting them with a promise that Branson or Rosalie had quite the story to tell them about the tourney, Ataashi hurried through the great hall only to slow to a near stop when she spied Varric and Cassandra next to his favorite fireplace by the main entrance. They were sitting at the table staring together at a book, both holding steaming mugs, and both looking content in each other's presence. As Varric read aloud, it seemed this morning found peace between them; Ataashi smiled and moved from the great hall. It seemed there was hope yet.

Ataashi descended the steps into the courtyard but hurriedly took a different route to her intended destination when she spied Branson coming up the stairs from the smithies in her direction. As he hadn't yet seen her, Ataashi increased her pace until she was up the stairs near the tavern and walking along the battlements. She passed a few scouts on their way out as she slunk into Cullen's tower and quietly leaned against the wall when the last of them closed the door. He still hadn't noticed her once they were alone, and she was given the opportunity to note the broody look on his face.

"I would say 'long day,'" she watched his shoulders tense, and his head snap up at the sound of her voice when she finally spoke, "but it is only morning yet."

It was hard to read his expression as Cullen straightened to walk around his desk toward her. Perhaps he was deciding how to approach after so much had happened in such a short time. Or maybe Cullen was wondering if he'd do her more injury if he tossed her out of his office, as he had a right to if he thought her guilty of initiating or encouraging the affection from Branson. Though it was true nothing concrete had ever been settled between them, Ataashi was not so naïve that she didn't recognize a growing bond between them. Mia had been correct in that observation; something vulnerable yet strong tied Ataashi to Cullen, and she recognized reciprocation in his gaze. But what that meant for their future, or even for the here and now, had yet to be determined.

Seeming to settle on an approach, his face relaxed into a neutral expression, and he massaged his hands over the muscles of his neck. "There's always something more, isn't there?" He offered her a half-smile before turning back to the table. "Though I shouldn't complain." His eyes studied the map spread out on the table.

Ataashi came to stand beside him and, observing the way his eyes kept straying to one point, commented, "Wishing you were somewhere else?"

"What?" Cullen looked up; his expression similar to that of a child having been caught with one too many sweets. "Oh, no. Not exactly. We have some dealings in Fereldan." He glanced towards the door then let his eyes stray down her torso for but a moment before he brought his gaze firmly back to her face. "I know the Wintersend festivities have their demands, and you are still recovering from your injury, but if you could spare some time, I was hoping you might accompany me."

Ataashi's eyebrows raised. This was not what she'd been expecting after last night's episode. Though she also had been hoping to avoid thrown chairs or broken bottles, and so was glad he seemed to be keen on mending things, albeit via their shared duties for the Inquisition. Still wondering if the question was best asked now and not when they were forced together on a mission, Ataashi pressed.

"Is there something wrong?"

"I would rather explain there," he blushed. Ataashi felt relieved at the sight as she had feared never to see the open expression again, "if you wish to go, that is," he quickly added.

"I would like to go." Ataashi glanced at the window. "Are we traveling far? It is already mid-morning."

"If we leave now, we should be able to make it there just after the evening meal. We can return early tomorrow morning, and while we may miss a whole day of tourney events, we will be back before the feast days. At least we better be, or else Josephine will have more than a few words to say to me." After offering a soft smile, Cullen eased past her. "I'll have them ready a carriage as I doubt Serilda would want you riding and threaten those stitches."

Ataashi appreciated his thoughtfulness. As he left to make ready their traveling companions and see to other pertinent details, Ataashi returned to her quarters to retrieve her daggers and a few other spare items for the overnight journey. Though it had felt she'd run into nearly all her friends in her efforts to get to Cullen earlier in the morning, Ataashi met not a one on her way back to the courtyard. Cullen was already waiting by the carriage with a half dozen escort riders ready.

Ataashi smiled at his near-eager look, "How will you survive without a parade of messengers and war reports coming to your office throughout the day?" She knew that while most others at Skyhold had given themselves over wholeheartedly to the festivities of Wintersend, Cullen had remained steadfast in his duties and only took part when absolutely necessary.

"I should be able to last the day." Cullen surprised her as he crawled inside the carriage behind her, sitting on the opposite bench before closing the door. He knocked his fist against the roof, and with a lurch, they began their journey. "Besides, I told Leliana to send word if she had a pressing need."

True to his nature, Cullen pulled out a handful of reports from the satchel already waiting for him in the carriage. After a semi-apologetic look and Ataashi's responding half-shrug and smile, Cullen fell to reading.

"The Inquisition won't rest, even if we may want to." Ataashi sighed, settling more comfortably on the bench, and doing her best not to knock her knees against his as the carriage swayed to and fro.

The carriage fell into a comfortable silence then, punctuated by the horse's hooves on the road and the sound of well-intentioned jabs and teasing traded between their escorts outside. Inside the carriage, she heard the occasional rustling of papers as Cullen turned over the reports and pulled out new ones, the occasional grunt or sigh emanating from his chest as he responded to what he read. Ataashi closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of their trek, content.

She must have fallen asleep, still working through Serilda's draughts, as when she next opened her eyes, the lighting in the carriage had changed to late afternoon sun. Seeing her awake again, Cullen offered her the hunk of cheese and bread he'd been nibbling on. They shared the food between them, and a flask of smooth mead as well, before leaning against the benches to watch the passing scenary. But Cullen spoke up sometime later, continuing a conversation Ataashi hadn't known they were having.

"I've not lost sight of what's at stake." Cullen's eyes moved to the reports still held loosely in his hands. His face was drawn into a contemplative frown, and Ataashi resisted the urge to smooth out the lines on his forehead. "But this war won't last forever." Heaving a sigh, he shifted his weight, his legs momentarily pressing against hers, as he straightened further on the bench and looked over to her. "When it started, I had considered little beyond our survival, but things are different now."

Ataashi tipped her head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"I find myself wondering what will happen when this is over." Cullen's eyes widened as if he hadn't meant to say what he did, and then his words came out in a confused rush as he stuffed the reports back into the satchel, "But I don't know what you, that is, if you, uh…" He looked from her back to the day passing outside the carriage window and, nodding towards it, his voice hitched in discomfort, "it's a nice day."

The abrupt change had Ataashi blinking, "What?"

"It is a nice day for traveling, don't you think?" Cullen rubbed his hand over the back of his neck in his telltale gesture of nervousness.

"Was there was something else you wished to discuss?" Ataashi smiled at him, trying to coax him back into the place of confidence he'd been in before he second-guessed himself. He'd been damn close to saying something important; she just knew it.

Cullen chuckled and shook his head, "Certainly not the weather."

"I assumed that much."

Cullen folded his hands together in his lap, then frowned harder before shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest, and shifting his weight on the bench. Ataashi kept herself still, afraid that if she moved even a muscle, he would retreat again. Eventually, he seemed satisfied with something, be it physical comfort or mental, and broke the silence.

"The Templars have rules on fraternization I'm no longer bound by." He first spoke while looking at his lap. But by the end of his statement, his eyes had traveled across the carriage to hold hers.

Ataashi nibbled on her lower lip and spoke carefully in response, "That's good to know."

"What I mean to say is I am glad we met after I left the Templar Order." Cullen took in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. "Distance from the Order has allowed me the time necessary to figure some things out on my own, such as who I would like to fraternize with now that I am a member of the Inquisition."

Ataashi smiled, "I'm honored to be one such individual." He returned her smile. "But, would it have stopped you," Ataashi wanted to bite her tongue off as she continued to ask, "if we'd be met before?"

Cullen reacted as she suspected he would, by tripping over his words, shifting uncomfortably, and avoiding eye contact. "I don't…I…"

Not wanting to end the conversation just as it was getting interesting, Ataashi fell back on humor to save them both. She reached across the carriage and lightly swatted his knee, as one friend might another. When he looked up, she added a wink, something she'd learned from either Dorian or Sera. She couldn't remember now which one. His eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.

"You could say 'no, of course not' to assuage my pride." Ataashi waved a hand in the air as she did her best mimic of his voice, but with her own interpretation of his mannerisms.

For her efforts, she earned a chuckle from Cullen, "It's hard to believe I wouldn't have noticed you."

"Thank you, Cullen." Ataashi allowed the kindness between them to settle a moment before she pushed into potentially dangerous waters again. "You've seen much in your time, from mages and templars to rogues and apostates. And if I'm not mistaken, there isn't a race you've encountered that hasn't tried to put a knife in your guts at one point or another."

Cullen smiled despite the gravity of her words, "Pun intended?"

"Riposte, mon commander," Cullen's chest bounced as he heaved a quick laugh at her continued mirth, "all jests aside, however; I can imagine it is difficult to get past previous experiences when you think on me. Not only am I a former mercenary, but I am a Vashoth rogue. And once this Inquisition has served its purpose, I…" Ataashi's words died out as she suddenly felt she couldn't breathe.

Just what in the hell WAS she supposed to do once the Inquisition was over and Corypheus was stopped? Though her ties with Shokrakar had not been severed completely, and she knew the mercenary group would accept her back under certain conditions, Ataashi couldn't help but wonder if SHE could go back to that life. After being surrounded by so many people from all over Thedas, working together for a common purpose that transcended religion, race, or prejudice, she couldn't help but wonder what on this earth could satisfy her soul now. What did the heroine do when she fulfilled her purpose?

"Ataashi?"

Cullen's soft, questioning voice brought her sharply back into the confines of the carriage and away from grayish areas of the unknown in her future. He looked concerned and mirrored in his eyes was a similar look of indecision. Sighing, Ataashi shook her head.

"It's nothing."

"If I've given you reason to doubt…oh, but of course I have." He broke eye contact and looked out the window. She heard him mutter something to himself and watched as he seemed to steady his thoughts again before continuing his train of thought, "I can't say that I haven't wondered what I would say to you in this situation."

"Being stuck in a carriage with me on our way to Fereldan?" Cullen looked askance at her, and she held up her hands. "Sorry. What kind of situation were you meaning?"

Cullen leaned forward suddenly, his elbows on his knees, and Ataashi was reminded not for the first time just how small this carriage indeed was. She had to hunch down to keep her horns from gauging out new holes in the roof or sides, and this caused her knees to almost buckle up as they were braced against the opposite bench. Having Cullen lean forward as he did made his knee press directly against her hip, and if the carriage rocked any more violently, the man would be in her lap in a matter of seconds.

"You're the Inquisitor, and we're at war," Cullen ran both of his hands over his head, causing his hair to tuft out with the same disorderliness as the mane that draped across his armor. Ataashi found it adorable and had to shift her hands under her legs to resist the temptation to test the quality of his hair. Was it as soft as she imagined, or was it coarser?

"Yes, I'm aware of my identity and the present situation in Thedas," Ataashi's dry tone had Cullen looking towards her, and she smiled, "my head wasn't injured in the fight."

Cullen sighed as he continued, "I find myself thinking of you," Ataashi wasn't certain if it was the carriage that had Cullen swaying closer as he spoke or if it was the man himself, "more than," the carriage lurched and whatever spell had had him shifting in her direction was broken, and he sat straight again, moving out of her proximity and leaving her cold, "well, all the time really."

Ataashi blinked. She'd never received this sort of conversation before or been in this position, yet she knew Cullen was about to say something intimate and permanent, and Ataashi didn't know if she was in the position to hear it. At least not until she could say a few things first.

"Cullen, you know I respect you and-"

Cullen was leaning forward again, his eyes wide with doubt, "What's wrong?"

"Well about Branson and I," she watched his expression change, morphing into one of frustration and fatigue. He fell back against the bench and grunted to let her know he was still listening. "You must know that I was never in receipt of his affection. That it was all a sham."

Cullen grunted again, "While snippets of the truth behind his deed have come to me via my sister, my good brother, and even a note written by the devil himself wrapped around a thrown brick through my open door, I never needed to hear from them to know you were not in favor of his pursuit."

"But…last night…you…?" Ataashi moved her hands back and forth between them as if by doing so she'd help him remember just how angry and hurt he'd looked and acted and how unavailable he'd been leading up to the tourney.

"You are not duplicitous, Ataashi. In all the time I've known you and became your friend, I've never witnessed a moment of treachery or corruption." Cullen smiled. "And I know from personal experience that you are also not the sort to swiftly throw yourself into a passing emotion. It took you how much time with the Inquisition before you mustered up the gumption to ask for a hug?" He meant the question as a jest, and Ataashi took it as such, both sharing a smile at the memory. "And I believe you still owe me a dance, now that my family has come visiting."

It was Ataashi's turn to lean forward. The lurching of the carriage and her position was causing her ass to fall asleep. Cullen didn't shy away when she was suddenly very close and nearly on his side of the carriage. Instead, he looked pleased with the change of position, if the slight smirk tugging at his lips was any sign.

"You didn't look like you remembered all that last night when you found me with Branson."

Cullen sighed, "I was angry. At Branson, at myself, at the situation. But not with you. Never with you." He bowed his head, "I hope you can forgive me my temper."

"Only if you explain yourself a little more clearly." Ataashi leaned sideways, bumping her elbow against his leg. "I need more clarification on why you were angry at everyone but me."

Taking a deep breath, Cullen spoke in a rush, with Ataashi staying still and quiet as she strived to keep up.

"Branson has always been both my greatest ally and my utmost rival. When we weren't teaming up against Mia in chess or getting rid of bullies for Rosalie, we were seeking to best each other in, well, basically everything. It was always good-natured, of course, and even now, I know I will forgive him this foolishness. But only after I make him pay for it a bit more, or maybe a lot more since you have a new scar from this mess of his." Ataashi gave a quick head jerk as she was in complete agreement. "You were right, you know, about my family. I'm not the only one who changed because of the Blight and everything that's happened after it. And though they aren't directly involved with the Inquisition, our choices here do influence them." Sighing, Cullen shook his head and pressed a hand to his forehead. "I still haven't told Mia everything, but neither has she told me everything that's happened to them either." Cullen rubbed his hand over his face. "I know much has transpired to them in my absence, for all their mirth and warmth, life has not been easy for them, and I recognize my failings as a member of the family now that they are here with me." He snorted, "Did you know Branson joined the Blackstone Irregulars?"

Ataashi's eyebrows rose nearly off her forehead. She'd had limited dealings with the Fereldan mercenary group aside from a few competitions for customers. Led by Raelnor Hawkwind, Ataashi remembered hearing both respect and disdain in Shokrakar's voice when the Tal-Vashoth spoke of him. Ataashi shook her head as Cullen continued to wait for her response. Thinking back on his charming yet callous nature, coupled with his good looks and educated background, she had no doubt that Branson was a very successful mercenary to the more affluent customers.

"My little brother, a mercenary." Cullen continued to chuckle. He looked up at her and held up a hand when he saw her annoyed look. "I mean no offense, Ataashi, only that I know exactly what our parents would've said to that line of work if he'd ever spoken of it over the dinner table. It just serves as further evidence that none of us made it out of the Blight without scars and baggage. We each of us carry our own hurts, our own compromises, and have survived these past years in whatever fashion we could." His body slumped, leaning more heavily against hers, and Ataashi relished the warmth shared between them. She felt his body rumble as he spoke further, "One of the foundational truths we Rutherford's still seem to live by is you never leave family behind. Another: you never leave them alone when they're hurt. And another is, you ignore their stubbornness if they don't accept your help to get out of danger."

He lapsed into silence. Ataashi bowed her head. For a time, they traveled like this, their bodies pressed side-by-side, swaying with the carriage, each lost in thought. When she felt him move against her, Ataashi looked up and watched him lean back against the carriage wall again. She mimicked, finally able to reposition herself now that her ass was no longer asleep.

"I recognized what was going on from the moment he trailed you in the tavern after the tourney. Always looking over his shoulder to ensure I was watching and smirking that knowing smile when he caught me looking." Cullen pulled his hands together in his lap and shook his head. "I was angry with myself for allowing the situation to get so muddled that Branson felt it necessary to act as he did to help me 'fix' the problem. And I was angry with Branson for stooping to such measures in his efforts to 'help.'"

"You make him sound like Cole," Ataashi interjected, and was rewarded with her effort to lighten the mood with a smile. "Always trying to be a blessing and yet also always being a bit of a curse."

"Yes," Cullen nodded, "they have that in common." He lapsed into silence again, his eyes traveling back to the passing countryside.

When he remained silent, Ataashi cleared her throat. She waited until he looked at her before she ended the silence. "I'm still here."

"So you are," Cullen's smile was warm, and it filled her with equal tenderness.

"I'm not complaining in the slightest," Ataashi scratched the base of her horn, "but I am still a little fuzzy on some details. You said you were angry with Branson because you knew he was trying to make you jealous so you would fix a 'situation.'" Cullen nodded. "I can't help but ask what that situation is?"

Cullen narrowed his eyes, "I'll answer your question after you answer one of mine."

"Not exactly fair, but fine." She crossed her arms over her chest though she uncrossed one long enough to wave a hand between them. 

"Why did you let him strike you?" Ataashi opened her mouth, but Cullen spoke over her to voice a second question, "And why didn't you let Solas or Dorian heal you? I saw them offer."

Ataashi blushed. There was no point in playing coy, not when it seemed they were once again on the cusp of something earth-shattering between them.

"When I couldn't find you to explain things before the tourney. Coupled with knowing, in a fashion, that Branson was purposefully trying to dig at you, though not understanding the whys, and finally in meeting your eyes and feeling all the guilt and shame from the night before crash in on me, I didn't feel like stopping his strike. I knew it wouldn't kill me and assumed wrongly that it would leave barely a scratch since I underestimated his strength and overestimated the durability of the ceremonial armor I was wearing." Ataashi shrugged, ever careful that her movements didn't stretch the stitches. "And still uncertain for what the future held for us," she gulped at the pivotal word and felt a strange heaviness enter the carriage between them, "I wanted the scar as a visual reminder. For me to be more vigilant, more aware, more careful, as I never want to be a tool used to hurt you again. I felt having that scar would help remind me. I care about you, Cullen, and I don't like being used against you."

Cullen's eyes were wide, and she barely heard him whisper, "I didn't think it was possible…"

A shout arose from outside the carriage. They both tensed until an escort came close and informed them of their arrival at the Commander's designated rest point. Cullen's lips tipped upwards into a mysterious smile as he instructed the escorts to continue their way to the camp. They would walk the rest of the way. Her curiosity piqued, Ataashi said little as she followed him from the carriage and up a nearby hill. The carriage and escorts resumed their pace, and there wasn't another soul in sight. Now that they were on the little path Cullen apparently already knew, Ataashi spied a similar way leading down alongside the road and assumed that would be how they would rejoin the others when this mystery was solved.

Coming over the cusp of the hill, Ataashi spied a lake bordered by evergreens. The evening mist undulated along the water's edge, dancing in between the trees and softening the edges of everything in sight. As they approached a small wooden jetty, Ataashi heard the soft lapping of water as it kissed the rocks and fallen sticks lining the bank, swishing through the tufts of water reeds clumped near the shore. A single lantern burned at the end of the jetty, its soft yellow light further lending to the diaphanous yet ephemeral moment yet to pass between them.

"Where are we?" she was the first to speak, looking around them as they ambled to the end of the jetty. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. The air was alive with the scent of pine, freshly tilled earth, wet rocks, and damp wood. Ataashi imagined she could taste peace the longer she stood here beside Cullen in the early evening hour.

"You walk into danger every day." Cullen smiled when she opened her eyes again and gazed back at him. He gestured to the surrounding area. "I wanted to take you away from that only for a moment."

Ataashi raised a single eyebrow, "Do we really have business in Ferelden? Or did you just want an excuse to get me alone beside a lake?"

"We truly have business in Fereldan." He smirked. "But, yes, I also wanted to show this place." He pointed past the grove on the opposite side of the lake. "I grew up not far from here." Ataashi widened her eyes. It was strange, though it shouldn't be, standing so close to a place from his youth. Cullen let out a contented sigh, "This place was always quiet."

Ataashi nodded and mirrored his stance, leaning against the jetty post across from him. "The quiet is nice." They stood in the hushed ambiance. Her eyes drifted shut again as she allowed her mind to drift and her muscles to uncoil. Eventually cracking open one eye, Ataashi studied him as she asked, "Did you come here often?"

"I loved my siblings, but they were very loud." Ataashi shared in his laugh. This she already knew well enough. "I would come here to clear my head." Cullen rubbed his hands together as if to stave off a chill before adding, "Of course, they always found me eventually."

Ataashi snickered. Having met the Rutherford clan, she doubted there were many places in Thedas they would not go to find a family member. She continued to study the softening lines of his face. "You were happy here," she commented tenderly.

"I was." He shook himself as she too felt a slight chill in the air. The hour was growing late, and yet she was reluctant to leave. "I still am," he turned his affectionate smile towards her, and Ataashi responded with one of her own. Cullen suddenly patted his waist as if looking for something, only relaxing when he put his hand into one of his waist pouches and drew something small out of it. "The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me this." He opened his hand. Ataashi had to step closer to see a small, silver coin cocooned in the middle of his gloved palm. "It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck." He smiled at Ataashi's look and shrugged as he held it higher to study, "Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our faith should see us through."

"You broke the Order's rules?" Ataashi placed a hand over her chest and feigned surprise. "I'm shocked."

Cullen laughed, "Until a year ago, I was very good at following them, most of the time. This was the only thing I took from Fereldan that the Templars didn't give me." He continued to stare at the coin, his expression that of a man with one foot in the past and one in the present.

"I don't know if it has worked all that much, to be honest." Ataashi nodded towards the coin even as she drew a finger over her lips, indicating his scar.

"I should've died during the Blight." Cullen lowered his arm. "Or in Kirkwall, or Haven. Take your pick." He shrugged as he looked back out over the tranquil lake. "Yet I made it back here."

Ataashi smiled, "True. You did make it back."

As if reminded of her presence by the sound of her voice, Cullen turned to her. His eyebrows knit together into a look of deep thought as he stepped closer. Reaching out, he took her hand and placed the coin in her palm.

He closed her fingers over it and kept his hand atop hers as he spoke, "Humor me; we don't know what you'll face before the end." He nodded towards their joined hands. "This can't hurt."

Ataashi shifted her hip to the side and stared down at him, "I can get myself out of trouble, I promise."

"You are rather good at getting into it as well." Cullen laughed. "I've read the reports of your adventures. And of course, there's always this fiasco with Branson we can return to as evidence."

Ataashi shook her head and tried to pull her hand away, "Maybe you should keep it. I don't want your luck to run out."

"Nor do I. Not when I finally have some." His voice dipped lower, and she felt her heart and her breath hitch at the sound. They stood very still then, his hand holding hers, their bodies close. If it hadn't been for an evening dove calling out to her mate, Ataashi wasn't certain how long they would've continued to remain there as they were. "But please," Cullen let go and stepped away. "I know it's foolish. I would like you to keep it."

"Very well, I'll keep it safe."

Cullen grinned, "Good. Consider it one of my Wintersend's gifts. "

At the reminder of the festival, Ataashi frowned. She still didn't know what to get Cullen, and after this, she feared it would be even harder to find just the right thing. Staring from the coin in her hand back to Cullen, she remembered her impulsive move at Halamshiral and wondered if something like that would suffice, for now, until she could find something better. Closing her fingers over the coin, she placed her other hand on his shoulder and leaned down. Cullen was still looking at the lake when she pressed her lips against his stubble roughened cheek. Under her touch, she felt him stiffen. She pulled away, slowly, and stared at him, waiting to see if that had been the right thing to offer or if she'd just mucked up everything again.

"I'm sorry," she confessed after a breath's silence when he still said nothing.

Cullen smiled, "I believe that was a kiss, but I can't be certain. It's all a blur." He turned and surprised Ataashi when she felt both his hands settle on her waist, though he quickly readjusted one of his hands to reach up and push her braid off her shoulder and roll the tip between his fingers to keep from putting any pressure on her stitches. "But I think you missed."

"Missed?" Ataashi frowned.

"Yes," Cullen used his hand on her braid to tug gently until Ataashi leaned closer, "you missed." He whispered his words against her lips.

"Oh," Ataashi whispered back, her eyes still wide and open and drinking in the image of Cullen so close, his eyes filled with such tenderness, and relishing the feel of his hand as it switched from her braid to the back of her neck as he pulled her closer still. "I see." She smiled and allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she felt his hips align with hers, their shared warmth building as they stood with scant space between them.

The kiss was as gentle and unhurried as Ataashi dreamt it would be, the touch of his hand on her skin light, hesitant almost, as if he were as afraid as she that one wrong move would end this reverie. It was a kiss of burgeoning affection and one that held promise for many more to come. When they finally broke apart, faces still tipped close together, both his hands were cradling her face, as hers tenderly traveled over what skin was barred on his neck.

She spoke first, "That was really nice."

"You don't regret it, do you?" Cullen's question did wonders to fill her with confidence, for he had the same concerns as she, that somehow their past mistakes would rear an ugly head and sever their present joys.

Ataashi shook her head and tightened her hold on his shoulders, holding him close unless he thought to pull away, "No, not at all."

Cullen breathed in deeply, leaning his head against her chin for but a moment before he let out his breath in a heavy sigh and stepped back. His smile was a continuation of the fondness she felt from his touch.

"We should head to camp, or they might come looking for us."

Ataashi nodded. They walked for only a few steps before she felt him brush his hand against hers. Smiling down at him, she took his hand in hers.

"That was what I wanted," Cullen's voice was filled with relieved joy, and his eyes mirrored the sentiment when he looked up to her.

She squeezed his hand and returned the smile, "Me too."


	5. Tender Firelight Contemplations

Ataashi held open the door for Cullen and quietly closed it behind him once he stood inside her room above the tavern. Their business would be concluded in the morning after their meal, and they would be on their way back to Skyhold immediately after. Cullen had chosen this tavern as it was close to their contact and yet remained just outside the town’s walls, affording more anonymity; none of them wanted fanfare or much attention for their business. Not that it was nefarious, but more because none of them wanted to stay away from the Wintersend festivities for longer than necessary, and making speeches and being formal with town mayors always had a way of taking longer than needed.

“You said you needed my help?” Though looking a bit unsure of himself standing alone with her in the bedroom, Cullen spoke clearly when she turned to face him.

His features were further softened by the firelight. Ataashi knew it was a combination of the warmth from the fire and the tenderness in her heart that had her feeling almost giddy as she studied him. She needed his help and not just to slack off her physical desires. Ataashi shook herself to keep her mind away from the more sensual arenas of thought. There would be time for that plenty; later.

Ataashi scratched the base of her horn, “I realize this may make you uncomfortable, but I would much rather ask for your help than one of our escorts.”

“What is it?” Cullen looked intrigued, dropping his hands from where he’d been holding them together in front of his body.

“I need help with my wound.” Ataashi nodded towards the small table and two chairs she’d drug closer to the fire for better light. “Serilda said to check it daily for any seepage and to clean it, replace the poultice, and wrap it. After the first few days, she told me it would be acceptable to leave it open to dry and heal without aid.”

“Oh,” Cullen moved a hand to his neck as his eyes darted to the fire, taking in the table and chairs and the various items she needed to take care of the wound, “I see.”

“If you feel too-“

“Oh, no, it is fine.” Cullen chuckled and dropped his hand. “You were correct in asking me, Ataashi. In all honesty, I would rather be the one to do it than any of the others.” He gestured for her to follow him to the table, speaking over his shoulder. “I never thought I’d be the jealous type, but after Branson,” he smirked once he settled in the chair and waited for her to join him, “I suppose I am.”

Ataashi giggled, “Over dinner, I noticed which escorts you picked for this excursion.” She sat on the chair opposite him and lined up the items they needed in the order he was to use them. “None of them are known to gossip, and all of them have absolute loyalty to you.”

“How very observant of you.” He simpered, watching her movements.

“And very strategic of you, Commander Rutherford.”

Cullen grunted his laugh. His laughter abruptly ended when, without preamble, Ataashi hiked up her tunic to expose her torso for his perusal as she held the clothing bunched up under her chest bindings. His eyes widened as he first took in the sight of the dressed wound, and then his eyes quickly darted over the rest of her exposed skin, his gaze trailing over past scars.

“You don’t need to keep this, Ataashi,” Cullen spoke softly, his gaze narrowing into a frown. “When we get back to Skyhold, you can still ask Solas or Dorian to heal it.”

Ataashi used her free hand to point to a jagged scar that cut horizontally from her side towards her bellybutton, “We had a mage in our mercenary group who offered to heal this one, but I refused. This wound is a reminder to never trust a drunk dwarf to juggle throwing axes.”

“What?” Cullen rubbed his hands together to warm them before leaning forward to unwrap the dressing.

“Long story.” She pointed to another smaller scar that started nearly at the end of the new wound, “This one reminds me that sometimes friends are enemies in disguise and you can never be too careful. And this one,” she pointed to the forearm holding up her tunic and Cullen glanced up long enough to see the star-shaped burn scar, “reminds me to duck faster when a dragonling sneezes.”

Cullen shook his head, “You must doubt your memorization abilities, Ataashi, to think you need to map all these reminders in the flesh of your body.” He had to lean closer to pass his hand behind her back as he continued to unwind the dressing. He smelled of elderflowers and leather. Ataashi warmed, and not because of the fire. “Truly, Ataashi, I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt any more than you like seeing me hurt. Be it physical or emotional.” He rolled up the dressing, checking it for evidence of seepage, before setting it aside and turning his gaze back to her. “Would you at least rethink about getting this healed when we return to Skyhold? It isn’t a necessary scar,” he reached out and cupped her face, with Ataashi leaning into his touch, “not when we are finally ‘fixing’ the problem ourselves without Branson’s haphazard help.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ataashi compromised after another moment.

Nodding his thanks, Cullen returned to the task and picked up the cloth and basin of water. When he first pressed the wet rag to her skin, Ataashi winced. He pulled back with a frown.

“Cold.”

“Oh,” Cullen turned in his chair and held the rag out towards the fire, “maybe this will help.”

Ataashi couldn’t help herself. She reached out with her free hand and ran her finger along his jawline, drawing his attention back to her.

“You are a kind man, Cullen.” Ataashi withdrew her hand when he turned back to face her. “Thank you for helping me.”

Cullen smirked, “An excuse to see naked flesh is rarely passed on by any man.” His jest took her by surprise, and they both laughed at his boldness. The rag was warmer when he touched her skin with it this time, and she relaxed into his ministrations as he drew it gently over the wound. There were only a few places where the skin had puckered and seeped, but overall it still looked good.

“Did anyone see you come in here?” Ataashi didn’t ask out of fear for her reputation, but she knew Cullen would feel more sensitive on the topic of repute.

He shook his head, “Some are still downstairs eating, and those who retired to their quarters didn’t check for who passed when I came by.”

Ataashi waited until he set aside the rag and leaned back to let her skin dry before she prodded with her comment, “The Commander of the Inquisition and the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ That will have people talking.”

“True.” Cullen sighed as he picked up the bowl of the poultice Ataashi had mixed before he came in. “And you wouldn’t believe how quickly gossip spreads through the barracks.”

The poultice was cold as the rag had been, but Ataashi sucked her breath through her teeth and held still for Cullen to complete his task. “It isn’t just through a barracks. Skyhold isn’t that large, after all.” She studied him carefully as she continued to question, “Does the potential for talk bother you?”

Cullen frowned, his eyes not straying from his actions of spreading the poultice evenly over the wound. “I would rather my—our—private affairs remain that way.”

“I see.” Ataashi looked towards the fire. His comment could be taken in several ways, and instead of charging ahead with her own assumptions of what he meant, she schooled herself into a place of quiet, waiting for him to explain.

“But,” Cullen sat back, “if there was nothing here for people to talk about,” he set the poultice aside and wiped his hands clean with the wet rag, “I would regret it more.”

“Agreed,” Ataashi smiled, patting his knee with her free hand. This roused him from his thoughts, and he picked up the new dressing she had folded on the table and set about finishing the process she’d called him in for. “You know, outside the Inquisition, when thinking objectively, there is not much that ties us together.” Cullen paused in his circle, his hands behind her back. He studied her hesitantly, waiting for her to finish her thought. “I know personally that we have in common similar values and expectations for livelihood and behavior despite the difference in race and background,” he resumed his movements, “and I feel bonded to you through the adversity we have faced together.” He nodded, still keeping silent. “But from an outsider’s perspective, I will always be Qunari when they see me.” She watched him as he kept up his movements. “Is that a problem for you?”

He snorted, “I could ask the same question of you, Ataashi.” When he spied her confused look, he sighed, “I have no title, no lands, nothing outside of the Inquisition. My only gainful ‘employment’ has been my time with the Templars and now with the Inquisition, whereas you have been able to maintain financial independence through contract work.” He shook his head as he tied off the dressing and let his fingers fall away from her torso, leaning back in his chair and watching as she lowered her tunic back into place. “While I do not foresee myself being of a mind to join a mercenary group like my brother, I fault neither of you for such employment nor look down on you for it either.” He shrugged and scooted his hair back so he could peer into the fire while also remaining near her side. “So in truth, once the Inquisition ends, you are potentially faced with a future shared with a man without title, lands, or vocation.” He stopped then and looked to her with the same vulnerable uncertainty she felt when she thought of their future, “That is, of course, if you wish to pursue this relationship beyond the borders of the Inquisition.”

“Oh, Cullen.” Ataashi leaned forward and kissed his temple, running her fingers through his soft hair. “I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve ever expressed a romantic interest in, and this is the first time that feeling has been reciprocated in kind.”

“Well, it was reciprocated once I got over being an ass.” Cullen tipped his head back and to the side like a cat as she continued combing her fingers through his hair.

“I’m glad you accept that description of yourself,” Ataashi playfully tugged at a lock of hair, “because, yes, it is quite accurate.”

They shared a laugh and a smile, Ataashi’s hand eventually falling to take hold of his. He kissed the back of it before laying their hands in his lap, their eyes straying to the flames dancing in the hearth. It was getting easier, sharing affection and thoughts, and Ataashi felt comforted and emboldened by that fact. It seemed with every moment of shared comfort and confessed feeling, the reality of a real relationship was further solidified between them.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” Cullen squeezed her hand some moments later. “I’m not very good at this. If I seem unsure, it’s because it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anyone in my life.” He looked back to her and briefly held up their hands. “I wasn’t expecting to find that here. Or you.” He kissed her hand again, earning a responding smile and a hand squeeze. “And in truth, while I don’t know what is going to happen when this is over, I don’t want to move on from you.”

Ataashi nodded in agreement, “We have that in common as well, Cullen.” She let go of his hand long enough to scoot her chair closer still, now able to sit close enough for their shoulders and hips to touch, though they remained in their own chairs. She retook his hand as soon as she was settled again and shared a smile. She waited a few moments more before she brought the conversation back to bare, “As for your potential unemployment, do you have any ideas or concepts of what you would be interested in taking part in? Perhaps joining Rigby in South Reach with his agricultural endeavors?”

“There’s a laugh.” Cullen snorted. “Me, a farmer.”

“I’m sure your good brother would appreciate that.”

Cullen shook his head, “I meant no insult.”

“I know, Cullen.” She winked and squeezed his hand, offering him reassurance.

They resumed peering into the flames, Cullen getting up long enough to add another log to the fire when it burned down enough to do so, both content to share the warmth and time together.

Cullen was the one to bring the conversation back this time, “While I left the Templar order, thanks to your efforts, it still exists, and I respect those who wish to remain in it. However, I can’t help but think there has to be a safer way for Templars to leave if they wish to break the lyrium chains.” He let go of her hand to lean his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him as he frowned at the fire. “Many Templars lose their memories to lyrium. Some call it a gift, to forget the fallen heroes, the demons, the atrocities.” He dropped his head, and she watched him close his eyes. “I nearly lost my mind once, and it is no gift. As with the bad, I nearly lost what good I could recall as well. And the dreams,” he shuddered before opening his eyes again and staring back into the fire, “even now, they’re always nightmares without the lyrium.”

“I’m so sorry, Cullen.” She rubbed her hand over his back in comfort.

Glancing over his shoulder, he touched her knee, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I think you can let me worry about you a little.” Her smile was soft, and his was just as tender when he sat up and returned it.

“All right, since it is inevitable, I’ll do the same for you.” He reached for her hand again, and she gladly gave it.

Chuckling, she shook her head, “Aren’t we a fine pair then?”

“Truly.” He grinned.

This time, as they ruminated on the future in silence, Cullen’s head drifted down to lie on her shoulder while their hands remained entwined on his lap. Ataashi lowered her head atop his and sighed.

“You know, I’m not worried about what happens after the Inquisition.” He tipped his head so he could look up at her, and she chuckled at his expression. “Okay, so maybe that isn’t completely true.” She lifted her head and frowned, chasing words around in her mind until she settled on, “Curious trepidation.”

Raising his head, “Oh?”

“After this,” with her free hand Ataashi waved to the surrounding room, “after working with you and the others, and uniting under one banner to accomplish so many things, and with a common purpose of protecting Thedas, I don’t know if I could be satisfied with going back to Shokrakar.” She gave a half shrug, “I honestly don’t know if they would want me, not since I have changed so much.”

“Do you think it has been a good change?”

“Yes.” Undoubtedly, she believed this. “Those dreams I told you about, joining the Templars, or being able to live openly for the ideals the Templars stood for,” he nodded, “well they’ve come true being with the Inquisition. And something inside me has changed as I’ve been able to fulfill those dreams. And that’s without taking into consideration how every one of you has been integral in these changes.” She smoothed the lines on his forehead when he gave a contemplative frown and smiled. “I am a better version of myself from having gone through these trials with you. The times I’ve made mistakes and Vivienne or Cassandra called me out on them, or the times I second-guessed myself and Varric or Dorian egged me on into taking action, and the times I’ve grieved over losses and Sera made those horrid cookies, or you played chess with me.” After tracing the lines on his face as she spoke, Ataashi dropped her free hand back to her lap. “All these things have made a mark on my soul, giving new color to the world I live in. Because of this, I don’t think I can return to the life I once lived.” She gave another half shrug. “So while I have some savings stashed away from my time with Shokrakar, I am looking at just as much of a blank slate after all this as you, Cullen.”

“I understand.” Cullen nodded. “With the Inquisition, I have been working to atone for my failures as a Templar. With the support of yourself and Cassandra, I’ve been able to pull through the lyrium addiction. Until recently, I had given little thought to what I might do after this is all over.” He heaved a sigh and glanced back to the fire. “However, now that I’m pondering it, that we’re pondering it,” he smiled at her, “I believe I would like to support those Templars who would like to leave the Order. Find some way to help them through the withdrawals.”

Intrigued by the prospect, Ataashi readjusted her position to sit up straighter, “Do you know how you’d do that?”

“No, not exactly.” Cullen’s free hand drew across the back of his neck, “Not yet.”

Ataashi nodded. She knew Cullen felt strongly about the Order, not wishing to see its end, and that he was equally passionate about supporting the veterans of the Order. Even before this conversation, Ataashi had known this truth, and she saw merit in his passion. The Templars were highly trained weapons that should not be cast aside once their purpose was served, and they felt the desire to move on from the Order. There had to be a way to reintegrate them into society, for if no such reintegration existed for Templars, then there was little hope for herself or Cullen or those like them. They were not that much different, veterans from the Inquisition.

Ataashi tipped her head to the side as an image came to her, “That lake you showed me.”

“Yes?”

“Does your family still own lands near it?” Ataashi turned in her chair to face him.

“Yes.” Cullen nodded, “Though not as large as before, over the years, we sold parcels of it.” He added, “But we have a modest-sized portion of land. Why do you ask?”

Ataashi shrugged, “Well, it was so peaceful there, I couldn’t help but think if there was a way you might set up a residence for Templars seeking to leave the Order and overcome the addiction in isolation.” Cullen frowned as he mulled over her words. “It is a calm environment, and while you said you aren’t a farmer, perhaps former-Order members might want to work on the land or take up carpentry,” she shrugged again, “or sculpting with rocks from the nearby mountains.” Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, “Now that I’m saying it, it all sounds rather silly.”

“No, it doesn’t. Not at all.” He squeezed her hand and offered a reassuring smile, “I actually think it sounds like with more planning and thought, it could be something worth investing in.” He hesitated then, dipping his head down as he added, “You’re a healer.”

“Yes.”

Cullen squirmed on his chair, then suddenly stood and went to stand by the hearth, staring down into the flames as he took hold of the poker and stirred the logs. His question was spoken clearly even as his eyes remained on the fire, “Do you think you might be interested in working on something like that in the future?” He sighed and replaced the fire poker, looking back to her. “With me?”

Overwhelmed with her tenderness for him, Ataashi stood and joined him. She put one hand on his waist as the other first combed through his hair before settling on his shoulder. He reciprocated with his hands on her hips, below her wound, his touch more confident now than the last time they’d stood like this by the lake. Ataashi smiled, conveying, she hoped, all the tenderness she felt towards him in that smile.

“Cullen,” she heard the quality of her voice change as the emotions swirled in her mind and tensed around her throat, “I’ve felt nothing like this before.”

He sighed, “Neither have I.”

“So, I would like to say yes.” She cupped his face and rubbed the pad of her thumb over his cheek, “Yes to the future, yes to our now. But I don’t want to say yes so much and move so fast that I end up hurting you.” She didn’t let go of him as she spoke. “I may yet have a nice scar to remind myself of the dangers of being impulsive, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Smiling, Cullen nodded, “I understand completely.” He reached up and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I respect that about you, Ataashi. And it is your caution that tells me this is not just some passing fancy between us, but something good, something solid, something worth protecting.” He leaned up, and she met him halfway, sharing a second kiss, just as gentle and precious as their first.

“Thank you, Cullen.” She whispered between them, and flashing her a smile, Cullen pulled her closer, transitioning into an embrace.

“It grows late,” Cullen’s voice was muffled when he spoke some moments later, “I should go.”

Ataashi reluctantly released him and nodded, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I look forward to that,” Cullen kissed her again, brief and sweet, before stepping away and heading towards the door.

With one last shared smile of affection, Cullen left Ataashi alone. The room somehow felt colder without him in it, and Ataashi shivered. Perhaps they were reckless, seeking to begin something like this amid the chaos. She was certain Solas would think so. Of her other friends and advisors, she couldn’t think of one who would seek to dissuade either she or Cullen from exploring this bond. They would all be hypocrites if they tried to, as nearly every single one of them, in some fashion or another, had already begun a relationship that was directly the result of the events leading to the Inquisition. After being introduced in Skyhold, Sera and Dagna had paired off, and once the Chargers had settled into the Inquisition, it seemed Krem and Leliana had developed an affinity for one another. Then there was Dorian and Bull, Blackwall and Josephine, Varric and Cassandra, though the last two couples had yet to be declared official or consummated. Neither Cole nor Vivienne had anyone of romantic note, but Ataashi knew them well enough to know they’d both encourage her to follow her heart and to live for the moment as nothing on the morrow was guaranteed.

Ataashi crawled into bed and shimmied around until she found a comfortable position. She always had to have extra pillows or rolled-up blankets arranged at the head of the bed to accommodate her horns as she lay on her back to sleep. While not as comfortable as her bed back in Skyhold, Ataashi knew she would rest well this evening. Tomorrow brimmed with brighter hope than ever, and she fell asleep in the peaceful assurance that Cullen would greet her with tenderness when she saw him in the morning.


End file.
